


Tight Trousers

by nerdyskeleton



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M, but she's 18 so it's not TOO weird I promise, vague beginnings of Valduggery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyskeleton/pseuds/nerdyskeleton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tight trousers don’t count.”  “What, now there are criteria?”  The unnecessary tale of Valkyrie Cain's un-heroic tight trousers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tight Trousers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm literally so in love with those two lines like they're such DORKS. also my first posted fanfic in years. hope you like it! Pre Last Stand of Dead Men. Valkyrie is 18. Beginnings of Valduggery.

Ghastly has to pretend to be sick to get away from the Sanctuary. Ravel is _so_ jealous he’s not there in meetings and boring other law making sessions who cares about what those stuffy English say anyway but Ghastly fake coughs and Ravel isn’t so jealous anymore. That’s how Ghastly has escaped away to his old tailor shop in Dublin City once more. He’s hoping for some peace and quiet and quality tea drinking, and he is sorely mistaken, because the bell over his door rings and that young girl shouts his name. Wincing, he gets up from his comfortable seat in the backroom to greet his friends. Skulduggery practically hovers right at Valkyrie’s elbow, her smile wide and beaming.

“Ravel said you were sick,” she announces, “and that you had gone home. We thought we might cheer up you up, especially considering you were probably lying about being sick and were probably feeling pretty lonely.”

“I was perfectly fine until you got here,” he mutters.

“Now you’re perfectly fabulous,” Valkyrie adds.

“How often do we just get to chat like this, Ghastly?” Skulduggery asks. “It’s been so long since we complained about everyone. I miss those days, don’t you?”

“We spent twenty minutes talking about how creepy that one Sanctuary detective is, Skulduggery. We’ve done enough complaining to last eons. Millennia. Days.”

Ghastly’s last little inkling of hope that he could get them to leave soon scampers away as soon as they both sit down on the comfortable couches he keeps in the main room. He sighs and says he’ll go get some tea for Valkyrie. She thanks him as she opens a game on her phone.

The next few hours are fairly enjoyable, Ghastly concedes. While he had hoped to spend this time away from everyone, he’s glad to be away from the Sanctuary at least. Skulduggery gets a call and Valkyrie complains that no one calls her with important news. Skulduggery says there’s a pretty dire situation happening close to Roarhaven. As suddenly as they showed up, they’re gone. Ghastly inhales happily and resumes his comfortable position in his comfortable chair in his comfortable backroom. He gathers some of his fabric up and starts snipping and creating. He feels happy and content, finally.

Maybe four or five hours later, Ghastly isn’t sure because he is so lost in his work, the bell to the door dings again.

“Ghastly?” Valkyrie calls out again.

“Please don’t shoot us,” Skulduggery says.

“If you’re going to shoot someone, shoot Skulduggery.”

“Please do not.”

Ghastly sighs and lovingly puts away his newest project. The chair scrapes against the wood floor as he gets up to see what they could be yelling about this time. Their positions are reversed, with Valkyrie practically hiding behind his skeleton friend.

“What did you do?”

“Yes, well, funny story,” Skulduggery begins. “That call we got was about a wendigo roaming the streets. Not a very friendly person, really. We really only wanted to sedate him, but the Wendigo did not really like that plan and came up with his own.”

“What did the Wendigo do?”

“Right well, Valkyrie and I are bravely running away, in an attempt to get him away from civilians, like good Sanctuary agents. You’d be proud. We are running, looking great as we do, indeed, run. You are quite good at running, Valkyrie.”

“Thanks,” she grunts.

“You’re welcome.”

“Honestly, Skulduggery, get to the point.”

“Wendigos, as I’m sure you know, have _very_ sharp claws. And while I have immovable grace and lightning fast reflexes, I do not trip or smack into walls. Unlike Valkyrie. But someone like Valkyrie, who trips and smacks into walls, might fall down and be fairly vulnerable to the Wendigo’s attack with their sharp claws. And such people who fall down might need new clothes.”

Valkyrie finally steps out from behind Skulduggery. Her jacket is practically in tatters, and her trousers are almost slashes. He sees some blood seep from wounds on both her legs and arms. Her protective shirt is also cut apart.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Ghastly,” Valkyrie says quietly, obviously feeling bad for being a person who falls down. “I know you wanted these days off to yourself. I wouldn’t ask if they were at least salvageable or if other tailors made them half as good as you do.”

He steps from the doorway of the backroom to come and examine her tattered jacket. He gingerly removes it from her arms and examines the tears and missing fabric.

“I can mend this, actually,” he finally says after a few moments. “It wouldn’t be too long, if you’d like to wait here. Follow me.” She does as he says. He takes her up the stairs to his old apartment. She smartly waits outside of his bedroom while he dodges in to grab one of his extra bathrobes. He sends her into the bathroom to undress and change.

“Did you get the Wendigo in the end?” he asks.

“Yeah! Sedated and everything. He was _heavy._ ” He hears her struggling and then a loud, “Ow!”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she groans. “His claws reminded me of my Aunt Rachel who thinks that inch long nails are the highest form of fashion. She draws blood when she holds hands with my Aunt Miranda.”

Ghastly laughs. “They come in handy in a fight.”

“Yes, clearly.” He hears more rustling in the bathroom and then the door opens. His extra bathrobe is a blue and yellow plaid pattern, and Valkyrie is almost drowning in it. Despite her height, it still hides her toes by a few inches. The sleeves are rolled over at least four times, and the sash is doubled over so it snugly keeps her secure. She hands him the tattered bundled ball of black clothing. She is already headed back down the stairs. Skulduggery laughs at her immense gown of plaid.

“Well _you’re_ the one who seemingly left her defenseless against the Wendigo, so I don’t see how you have the right to laugh, Skulduggery.”

“I didn’t leave her.”

“I’m not defenseless!”

Ghastly smiles and ducks into the backroom. As he sets each clothing item aside to decide which to work on, he hears Valkyrie’s pained grunts from the main room. Ghastly peeks around the doorway and sees Skulduggery kneeling in front of her, with healing ointments and bandages in his hands. Valkyrie has hiked the enormous bathrobe up so it pools at her very tops of her thighs. He watches as Skulduggery approaches her thighs with the ointment, but she snatches it out of his hands and does that part herself. He huffs and stands and sits next to her. She hands the tube back to him.

“What? Oh, _now_ , I’m allowed to help?”

“You would have messed it up.”

“But I won’t mess up your other various injures?”

Valkyrie hesitates, and Ghastly sees the blush creep up from the fluffy plaid neck. “Yes.”

He shakes his head and disappears back to work before they see him. It takes him around an hour and half to mend her clothing. She takes them and disappears upstairs to his bathroom again.

“Did you mess it up?” Ghastly asks his friend.

“No,” he says defensively.

Valkyrie has changed back into her clothes quickly as she bounds down the stairs. She tells Ghastly she folded the robe and left it at the foot of his bed. She sees the full length mirror and takes a second to admire herself.

“These are great, Ghastly!” she exclaims. “You’re a miracle worker! Honestly, thank you so much.”

“I can’t leave you vulnerable like that,” he says. “What if you trip and hit a wall again?”

She scowls and almost responds but decides that returning to admiring her reflection is the better choice. She’s turning and is very obviously also admiring her backside. She’s eighteen, so Ghastly decides to not laugh too hard. His grin immediately disappears when Skulduggery elbows him with his bony arms.

“What did you do to them?”

“Uh, I fixed them?”

“They’re so much…tighter.”

“So? Aren’t ‘skinny jeans’ all the rage nowadays? _She_ loves it. Look, she’s practically posing.” Valkyrie really is posing. Her fists are up like she’s going to punch someone, and her legs are spread and bent. She turns to look at them dramatically and takes a few steps and shimmies her whole body against the new fabrics.

“They feel great!”

“They fit well?” Ghastly pointedly asks, just so Skulduggery will hop off his back.

She nods enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted the trousers to be a little tighter, so thank you!”

“Tighter than they were before?” Skulduggery asks, somewhat incredulously.

“Yeah, all right, dad. Modesty above all else, I should become a nun, chaperones for every date, etcetera. I get enough of that from my actual father.” She shoves her hands in the back pockets of her new trousers. “Are we going? We’ve already taken up enough of Ghastly’s time today.”

“It really wasn’t a big deal,” he says warmly.

“I appreciate it Ghastly.” She smiles. “As pay back, you can show up to Skulduggery’s house whenever you want.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Of course you can, Ghastly.” Her smile grows and she actually grips Skulduggery’s gloved hand to drag him from the shop. He protests the whole way, pausing briefly to say his goodbyes, and Ghastly knows his friend could have wrenched himself from her grasp anytime he wanted.

Funny, everyone makes such snide comments about _her_ feelings for _him_ , and never the opposite. . .


End file.
